


ourselves, undone

by thorduna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Conversations, Gap Filler, Gen, Infinity Gems, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorduna/pseuds/thorduna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A contemplative piece about Thor discovering the truth about Loki being very much alive and in charge of Asgard, after Loki's hand is forced by the looming threat of Thanos.</p>
<p>  <i>Time slows. The figure wears a black hooded cloak and as Thor watches, two hands rise to pull the hood back. A flash of green catches his eyes, quickly covered by a flutter of dark eyelashes that brush pale cheeks in mockery of shyness.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	ourselves, undone

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my WIP folder for a very long time, and I looked at it again recently, thanks to a tumblr game in which you search for specific words in your WIP files.
> 
> It's set during the scene in Age of Ultron where Thor goes to investigate his vision. No Selvig, he didn't quite fit in!

Finally the water's surface is broken and he emerges with a loud gasp, sucking air into his burning lungs. He blinks wetly through the haze and steadies himself with a palm placed on a sharp edge of a rock. His entire body aches in unknown ways. The water spirits could not best him, too small and weak for him, but they certainly did try and he's covered in perhaps a thousand of tiny bruises and cuts from their nimble, pointed fingers and teeth.

 

The biggest challenge posed to him was not physical though and it is not the abrasions on his skin that keep him standing on the spot, shivering in the waist deep water. When the child-witch attacked him, he had been unaware and utterly unprepared for the sight of his dead companions. The stink of debauchery, dishonour and death assaulted him, as did the flashes of angry white eyes who stared him down, blaming him. He was not ready for any of it.

 

He thought he had been ready this time, as he lowered himself underneath the surface of the Water of Sights but he was not.

 

No god would ever be ready to see the twilight.

 

He takes a deep breath and then he takes five more, still unable to move. He _needs_ to, he tells himself. He needs to go and do everything in his power to prevent the vision he's seen from becoming reality but here, alone, he allows himself those several breaths to at least try and quell the pain that seizes his whole being.

 

The water feels like liquid lead as he drags his feet through it to get out of it and onto the small clearing where he's left his clothing.

 

It is perhaps a witness to how much he's been affected that he doesn't realize he's not alone until he stands only a few paces from the still figure that must have watched him the entire time.

 

Time slows. The figure wears a black hooded cloak and as Thor watches, two hands rise to pull the hood back. A flash of green catches his eyes, quickly covered by a flutter of dark eyelashes that brush pale cheeks in mockery of shyness.

 

_Loki._

 

Thor was a fool to let his guard down. The water spirits, at the Norns' bidding for sure, still have him under their spell and upon realizing they could not hurt him worse than scratching him, they tried an uglier technique. They conjured for him an image of his dead brother who now stands before him, tall and slim, shrouded in soft black cloak that makes him appear all the more unreal. Unreal and beautiful.

 

He crosses the distance between himself and the phantom in three quick strides and throws his fist forward to chase the dream away once and for all.

 

Instead, he strikes a decidedly solid forearm that shoots up to protect the very _tangible_ Loki's face.

 

He's still reeling back from having actually _hit_ something when-

 

“That's a welcome I probably should be used to by now.”

 

The image shatters, but not in the way Thor was expecting. The cloak is pulled back to reveal armour, _Loki's usual armour_. His eyes are no less green but they hold a wary expression, his hair is very slightly tussled as he jerked to avoid being hit.

 

The reality of the moment crashes down on Thor. It should be impossible. And yet it wasn't. Hasn't this happened to Thor before? Didn't he tear his way into a jet mere couple years ago, didn't he grab Loki by the throat after thinking him dead?

 

Loki is clearly cautious of more blows but Thor merely stands, breathing hard and so they are at an impasse for a long while.

 

“You're alive,” Thor states the obvious with a false calm.

 

“For now.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Thor bites out. This can't be happening. Not again.

 

“Well, firstly, I am in your company. Secondly, I am here for a reason. A very dangerous reason.”

 

“Do you know what I have seen?” Thor asks, avoiding the other apparent issue for now – for his own sanity.

 

“If I did, do you think I would be standing here?”

 

And that rekindles Thor's anger and he reaches forward blindly, fingers grasping at Loki's neck. Before he knows it, he has his brother slammed against the jagged stone wall.

 

“You damned sleazy bastard, do you have any idea-”

 

“I do, in fact.”

 

Thor keeps his hold on Loki firm, but narrows his eyes only, prompting him to continue.

 

They stare at each other for a moment and Thor takes it all in, Loki's face – smooth and pale as always, not ashen and twisted – and his clear gaze.

 

“I've been watching you. Something big is coming, I've known this for a while and now I assume you've seen it too.”

 

Thor sifts through that declaration, zeroing in on one suspicious fact.

 

“How have you been watching me?”

 

Loki squirms quite obviously under Thor's grip but doesn't fight to free himself.

 

“Might we perhaps leave that for _after_ we've assessed the threat?”

 

“The only threat I see right now is you.”

 

It's not strictly true. Something tells him that perhaps... perhaps Loki has a hand in causing Ragnarok, but could it really be him alone? Could it be his true purpose, his end-game so to speak? Thor hopes he knows his brother better than that. But maybe he doesn't and that's why his grip on Loki's neck tightens.

 

“Thor!” Loki protests, his annoyed tone hindered by the lack of air. “Let me explain!”

 

He loosens his fingers minutely. “Yes, do explain. Explain to me how you've let me believe you were dead _for a year_. How you somehow could have afforded to _watch_ me, but not to tell me that you have not died in my arms!”

 

He's shouting before he finishes even though his words began as a little more than a hiss.

 

He simply cannot process this. His whole being, body and mind is still hurting from having been put through the painful process of accessing the vision. And the information he's gained was hardly a relief. And now Loki is here, alive and unapologetic, making demands of Thor without letting him even absorb the shocking truth of his living.

 

It _is_ a wonderful thing. His brother, the laughing troublemaker, is still among the living, but Thor supposes he must be too tired to feel joy. His world has been nothing but bleak misery livened only by strokes of violence and laced with mild obsession (the cursed _sceptre_ ) lately. It is not so easy to tear free from it.

 

“Do you blame me for doing all I could to escape that prison?” Loki spits back at him.

 

“I would have let you go the day I became king!” Thor roars without thinking. Silence fills the cavern and he bites down on his tongue. That was not quite what he meant to say. Loki looks smug for a second and then very, very angry. Thor opts to go on and salvage what has been revealed. “Or father would have shortened your sentence. Once you've shown some remorse.”

 

“Let go of me,” Loki hisses. When Thor persists, he continues. “You are bloody naked and look like you can barely stand. Besides, you've just admitted you would not even let me die in prison _on my own_ , much less kill me yourself. Let me go so we might talk.”

 

Thor quickly glances down at himself. He must admit that he's quite forgotten he took off his clothes to submerge. Odd that Loki should mind. He's the vulnerable and exposed one here, not Loki.

 

With a hard parting look, he releases Loki and makes his way towards the small pile of Midgardian clothing. Jeans, grey t-shirt and a black hoodie. He puts it all on while Loki watches with his arms crossed over his chest. Just as Thor is zipping up the hoodie, Loki shimmers greenly and Thor's eyebrows shoot up. With ease, Loki transformed his cloak and armour into an outfit that is not dissimilar to Thor's. His jeans are tighter, as is his shirt (which is dark green and at any other situation Thor would find this amusing, possibly even endearing) and he wears an expensive looking leather jacket over it.

 

“What?” Loki asks when Thor simply keeps looking at him. “I'm a quick study.”

 

“I know you are,” Thor bites back. “I'm just wondering what kind of game you are playing.”

 

“I'm playing a game called _let's go somewhere quiet and talk without drawing attention_.”

 

It's surreal – impossible and yet familiar. They walk side by side through the cave first and then through the forest. They are in Norway. A small town is not far from the cave, but apart from the thoroughly modern settlement, the nature remains as it was centuries ago. Thor was surprised to discover that the mythical, ancient place was now in such close proximity to civilization, but he remembered that it's the mortal way.

 

“I hope you well remember this place,”Thor tells Loki harshly, the betrayal stinging him.

 

“I've never been here before,” Loki says, neutral. Thor can't tell if he's pretending or if he really doesn't know what Thor means. He doesn't care either way. He will get his point across.

 

“Perhaps not specifically here, no, but close, certainly. I'm told that the countries that previously belonged to the Vikings are now called Norway and Sweden. Also Denmark, across the sea. Scandinavia as a whole.”

 

“Fascinating.”

 

Thor whips around and slams Loki into the closest tree.

 

“How dare-”

 

“Stop this already,” Loki yells, interrupting that accusation that was tearing its way from Thor's throat. “Stop it. Yes, of course I remember, you pig-headed brute! So what? How does that help us right now?”

 

The admission does nothing to calm Thor's temper. “It doesn't. I just want you to think about it. I want to see what it does to you.”

 

Loki's expression falls quickly, the anger wiped from his face. Thor is holding him by the lapels of his jacket and Loki has his hands wrapped around Thor's wrists to stave off any further attack, but his grip slackens.

 

“You want to see what it does to me,” Loki repeats quietly. He almost looks hurt. “I don't think you know what you are asking.”

 

Thor's pulse is slowing. It's not mindless rage that guides him, it's something much worse, something he rarely knew. It's colder, more steady. Cruel.

 

Is this how Loki feels all the time?

 

“I know what I am asking. What will you tell me about our time here? Have I purposefully cheated you of the mortals' worship? The same way I apparently threw you off the Bifrost? The same way I came to mock you after our mother died? What is it that I have done this time, Loki?”

 

It's been festering in him, he realizes with detachment. All those sharp words, twisted and ugly that Loki bestowed upon him in the past years. Somehow, no amount of sweat or blood washed them out.

 

Loki's eyes are on him, searching.

 

“They did worship me. And they feared me.” Then he pauses, blinking. “And you did not throw me off. I let go.”

 

It seems like a hush has fallen over the forest. It's close to sundown and the wind has quieted naturally, but it still feels almost magical.

 

Loki breaks his gaze and looks down. Thor lets go of Loki's jacket as if burned, but he doesn't step back; instead he cups Loki's face in his hands. Loki jerks his head just a bit, letting it fall against the tree trunk, but it's not enough to dislodge Thor's hands; after that, he doesn't try anymore.

 

“Of all the things you could pick...” Loki murmurs, no heat in his voice.

 

“There are many more,” Thor tells him, but the fight has gone out of him too.

 

“I know. Now stop pawing at me.”

 

They set out again, slower this time, as though they've both realized that they are not yet fit to enter the town.

 

“I found your sceptre.”

 

“It wasn't technically mine,” Loki corrects and Thor shoots him a look.

 

“It's been used to experiment on humans. To transform them,” Thor says, though he thinks Loki maybe already knows this. He did say he had been watching Thor after all. “There is a... a girl. A witch. She carries partial power of the sceptre, of the Mind gem, inside her. She... invaded my mind.”

 

“And that is what led you here, I know,” Loki nods, his tone even. “You wanted to return to that vision.”

 

“I did, but that's not what I am saying.”

 

Loki is silent, so Thor trudges on.

 

“I could feel her trying to do it. I pushed her away, certain that her powers couldn't claim me. But they did. I was consumed in the same way that my friends were.”

 

“Yes, all right, and thanks to that you have seen what-”

 

“You had all the power of that sceptre. I suppose both myself and the entirety of the human population are lucky that you didn't think to use it on me. To turn me into your puppet the same way you did with Barton.”

 

This time it's Loki who stops on the spot.

 

“Well, it is terribly hard to get you to stay still,” he says eventually.

 

“Or maybe it was never your intention.”

 

“What do you want me to say, Thor?” Loki hisses at him, this time clearly angry. “Do you want to cling to this sentiment that I would never put you through something like that? Or do you want me to admit that I've failed?”

 

Thor doesn't let the anger infect him. “I don't know. You are here now, insisting that we need not fight, that we must stand together. Why not placate me with assurances such as this?”

 

Loki shakes his head and slowly starts to walk again. The path underneath their feet is nice and tidy, very wide. It's clearly meant to accommodate mortal tourists that seek the easily accessed beauty of this forest.

 

“Do you really think those are the questions that matter?” Before Thor can jump in, he goes on. “Are those really the questions that matter to you and me? Are those the question that matter in battle?”

 

And that's something different and it gives Thor a pause.

 

He has done many things in a battle that shame him now. It is clear to him that that is not precisely what Loki is saying. His words are not mere hint at apology, he is clearly saying something a bit more subtle and yet...

 

Thor lets them stay quiet even as they walk between the first scattered building that announce the Norwegian town. Thor has spent enough time on Midgard to blend in more or less easily and it's simple for him to look over the buildings and their markings to spot one that offers hospitality. Loki follows his lead subtly. It's an action both new and ancient.

 

They sit down at a place that is apparently half café, half pub, accommodating the locals' needs

 

“Order me something, I have no will to wade through all this,” Loki murmurs quietly, letting the slightly sticky, laminated menu fall from his fingers carelessly once they are seated in nice corner with a big window. Thor himself is by now well acquainted with the typical beverages of Midgard and ponders the leeway of choice longer than perhaps necessary for the importance of the task. But then again, one never knows with Loki.

 

A waitress comes, polite smile on her face and she enquires their desires.

 

“Latte for me, please, and cappuccino for my brother. And some strawberry juice for both of us. Thank you.”

 

She takes the order and then they are left alone. Thor can still hardly believe it, sitting across his thought-dead brother. Loki looks... Well cared for. Sharp but not starved; groomed. Shameless, Thor stares and rakes his gaze all over him, taking everything in.

 

Even if this all turns out to be a dream – or rather some fancy, some fluke, he will be glad to have these memories. Something to overcome the burning sight of Loki's wide, desperate eyes and his ashen skin as he died in Thor's arms.

 

He dwells on this and decides to just ask.

 

“Did you die?”

 

Loki purses his lips and stares right back at Thor.

 

“I think not,” he says slowly.

 

“You _think?_ ”

 

“Yes, I _think_ so, Thor,” Loki mocks Thor's tone. “I do not know precisely what happened, I only have my theories. I certainly did think I was dying, as I should hope you can tell by the _sentiments_ I spilled all over you.”

 

He says 'sentiments' as though it was a dirty word. Thor feels gratification when he realizes that Loki is telling the truth and that he is deeply embarrassed by the things he has told Thor. Let him be embarrassed. He would have the truths wrangled from his slippery brother.

 

“So you were healed, then.”

 

“I-”

 

They are interrupted by the return of the waitress who piles their coffees and juices in front of them. Thor watches Loki pick up the low mug piled with foam and sniff it dubiously.

 

He simply stirs his own latte until the layers mix and takes a deep gulp.

 

Loki shoots a quick look at the rest of the restaurant; no one else is in sight and no one is looking. With one hand he rucks up his shirt and Thor gapes.

 

There is a long, black scar in the middle of Loki's chest. Thor has rarely seen anything similar. Aesir heal well, they scar only when the wound is very serious or caused by something magical. Thor supposes it's both in Loki's case.

 

“My best guess,” Loki says after dropping his shirt down, “is that the Accursed blood entered my bloodstream and healed me.”

 

Thor doesn't need further clarification. He well remembers that Loki was stabbed by the same blade that was still sticking out of the Dark Elven beast. The image might as well be burned into his retina – he will never forget the sight. A bitter feeling of guilt tightens his throat.

 

“You should have come to me. I would have listened. I would have helped you.”

 

Loki simply shrugs his shoulders. “I couldn't be sure of that.”

 

“But you do need my help now,” Thor counters.

 

“Yes and you do not seem terribly willing to offer it, despite your claims that you _would have_ helped before.”

 

Thor is silent and Loki's mouth twists.

 

“I see how it is. You would have happily helped me had I crawled to your feet bloody and weak as kitten, the words forced out of me in dying throes still fresh in your ears. But now that I've fended for myself and-”

 

“I will help you,” Thor growls at him. “But you best stop acting as though you have earned my blind trust.”

 

Loki's mouth curves into a smile. “I suppose not.”

 

Nothing is said for a moment and Loki finally lifts his cappuccino to his lips and takes a sip. Thor follows the motion of his hands as he does it, watches the slight crease that appears between Loki's eyebrows as he considers the taste. The surreality of the moment is accented by the pleasant hum of the café – conversations between the other patrons and the occasional rumble of the espresso machine. Thor wonders if he's still stuck in the Waters and has been forever ensnared by the spirits who will feed off of him as he dreams that his brother is alive and cordial enough to share a coffee with Thor.

 

“Tell me what you have seen,” Loki asks – or demands – as he wipes a bit of foam from his upper lip and places the mug down.

 

“Everyone was dead. And then... Asgard was burning.”

 

Loki scowls. “That's not very specific. Or helpful, for that matter.”

 

Thor shakes his head and goes on. “No, you don't understand. It wasn't a normal fire... not fire that caught in explosion, in an attack. The fire _was_ the attack. Everything was engulfed in it. All of Asgard.”

 

Loki sat back, his expression growing sombre.

 

Thor pulls his hand away from his glass, afraid he might shatter it. With Loki accosting him so soon after he emerged from the Waters of Sight, he didn't have enough time to reflect on what he had seen. All he had to go on was the overwhelming sense of loss and horror.

 

“It was Ragnarok,” he adds quietly.

 

To his surprise, Loki shakes his head.

 

“No, Thor... I... I don't believe so.”

 

Thor raises his eyebrows, a trickle of anger cutting through the quiet worry he is feeling. “Oh? So what more do you know about this that you haven't told me yet?”

 

“It's a theory,” Loki counters, quiet but sharp. “There have been... events that showed a certain amount of predictability. Or similarity at least, if you will. I've been trying to predict the next one. And when you say Asgard is attacked with _fire,_ I believe I understand what will happen.”

 

“Events,” Thor echoes, sitting back, his mood worsening.

 

“Events that I have been a part of,” Loki scowls and they exchange a long look.

 

“You have been given the sceptre. What else happened?”

 

“I am telling you once again that it was merely a loan. A tool placed into my hands. I was never meant to keep it and it certainly wasn't supposed to stay behind in the hands of mortals.”

 

Thor frowns but before he can say anything, he can see Loki take a deep breath, that crease between his eyebrows never disappearing. “It's what he does. He plays with- He likes to engage in bargains. In trade. You do this for me, I do this for you and it seems like a marvellous idea until you remember he still holds all the cards.”

 

Thor's throat is tight again and instinctively he reaches across the table to grasp Loki's hand in his own. Loki's fingers twitch, but for a moment he lets it happen. Only when Thor slides his thumb over the back of Loki's hand gently Loki pulls away, but it's not a harsh movement.

 

“So he plays a game with the Gems,” Thor prompts.

 

“Yes and no. He uses their power, yes, but eventually he wants to possess them all.”

 

“So, now Asgard is in his sight because we possess the Tessarect and the Aether,” Thor exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

 

Loki winces.

 

“Loki?” Thor all but growls at him, anger sparking again.

 

“The Aether currently resides with a certain persona called the Collector.” Loki raises his hand to stop Thor from interrupting him. “I encourage you to confirm this with Lady Sif and Volstagg. They are the ones who delivered it to him.”

 

Thor wordlessly opens his mouth, suspicions swirling in his mind, one worse than the other. There is just so much that has happened between him and Loki, so much that has happened to Loki himself and then there is the threat they are facing – he feels like he's drowning in his thoughts.

 

“Why did they give the Aether away?”

 

“Why, at the All-Father's orders, of course.”

 

“How do you know this?” Thor presses, his voice rising, no longer suitable for Midgard's interiors. The café falls into a hush around them, but Thor only has eyes for his brother – his treacherous, horrible-

 

“I know this because I gave the order.”

 

“So you are king once again. What a wonderful turn of events, brother,” Thor snorts.

 

“I said the All-Father. Not me.”

 

“Stop!” Thor slams the open palm of his hand against the table. “You come here asking for help, for information and yet you will not part with a single word without twisting it, without-”

 

“Father sleeps. I've been impersonating him. I have been preparing Asgard for the attack that is inevitably coming and part of that preparations was to lessen the attraction that it carries – so now only one Gem is to be found on our realm, not two. And I have been watching you from the throne. You have done all you can here, now I need you on Asgard. I need an agent and a general, you are the best in both.”

 

The words tumble out of Loki as though against his will – he speaks quickly and dispassionately, not even meeting Thor's gaze, rather speaking towards a spot on the table.

 

“Flattery,” Thor replies coolly. “Is that meant to make me overlook what you have just told me? _Impersonating_ father? How could you?”

 

“How could _I_? Have you already forgotten that you committed treason? Again? He would have banished you, if not worse.”

 

“He- oh.” Thor feels oddly embarrassed as he recalls his last conversation with his father. And in a way, Loki is right. Thor approached that audience knowing he was likely to have Mjolnir taken away, along with his dues as a prince of Asgard. He spoke humbly... and he spoke well of Loki. Right to his face, as it turns out. He realizes how shameful it is, that he is thrown off by this realization. It should be normal for them to compliment each other's strengths.

 

“Yes, that was me,” Loki follows up Thor's silence sardonically. “This _honourable dead_ was giving that audience.”

 

“I could kill you for this. For _everything_.” Thor looks out of the window as he says it.

 

“Could you really?” Loki wonders softly.

 

What a grand question.

 

The atmosphere in the café is still a bit tight and Thor shakes himself. “Finish your drink, we're leaving.”

 

Loki takes a sip of his cappuccino while staring Thor dead in the eye. Yes, Thor rather expects that this will be the one and only matter in which Loki chooses to obey him.

 

Once they are outside again, Thor attempts to take a calming breath.

 

“There are matters to still resolve here. Midgard is in danger and I can't leave my friends to fend it off alone.” He sees Loki opening his mouth to speak and halts him with a raised hand. “This is not a matter of negotiation. I will see this threat to its end. Come with me and help, it can only save us time.”

 

Loki appears to be struggling with himself for a moment. “And how will your friends react to my presence?”

 

“If you'd rather not find out, you are welcome to conceal yourself.”

 

Thor says it as evenly as he can, recalling with a hot twitch deep in his belly the long, intimate conversation he's had with Steve Rogers several weeks ago, unearthing to him the complexities of his relationship with his brother as they talked of the hardship of fighting ones they loved. In light of everything, he would prefer not to explain Loki's presence to his friends.

 

“And after that?” Loki prompts calmly.

 

“After, we will go to Asgard, together,” Thor replies with equal calm, gazing at Loki.

 

“As what?”

 

“As princes.” That reply is easy. It's what comes next that really matters. “As brothers.”

 

 


End file.
